


Domestic Destiel AU

by Misha_Collins_Overlord



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Canon Gay Relationship, Castiel and his bees, Dean Loves Pie, Dissatisfied wife Castiel, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic destiel, Drunk Dean, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gay Castiel, Gay Dean, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Top Dean Winchester, domestic angel Castiel, domestic!Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misha_Collins_Overlord/pseuds/Misha_Collins_Overlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door.<br/>“You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Ikea. I can throw you back in.”<br/>That shut Dean up.</p><p>A one-shot of Cas and Dean and their normal, domestic life, with some humour, Cas being a dissatisfied wife, and of course, there's some smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Destiel AU

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a domestic!Destiel tumblr post, which I'll post at the end of the fic.  
> The sentences that I've taken from said post are in bold.  
> I've been stuck in a period of frustrating writer's block, so I thought this might help.  
> Enjoy!

Dean drove home in the Impala, when it was nearing two a.m. As he slid the key into the lock, he pushed open the door, thinking there was no point in trying to sneak anyway – Cas was probably still awake. In his slightly inebriated state, he nearly forgot the door wasn’t going to close itself.

He noticed a neat stack of clean clothes in the kitchen, and bounded up the stairs, smiling. He missed Cas more than he was willing to admit.

“Hey baby,” he said as he moved into their bedroom. He shrugged off his leather jacket, canvas jacket and plaid shirt, then taking off his t-shirt and undershirt.

Layers, man.

Cas was sitting in their king-size bed, reading under the light from the lamp on the nightstand. His reading glasses were perched on his nose. His hair was messy, as if he’d run his hands through it unceremoniously. And he looked so fucking hot.

Dean slid into bed next to him once he’d shed his jeans and boots. The covers were a slightly dark blue – the blue of Cas’ eyes under a shadow. Not that he’d ever say out loud that that was the reason he’d picked them in the first place.

He started placing a multitude of kisses along Cas’ lightly-stubbled jaw and neck. When Dean didn’t drink _too much_ , alcohol made him more . . . “affectionate”, as Cas put it.

Cas sighed, “Dean, I’m not in the mood.”

Due to the persistence, Cas was sure that he hadn’t been heard. He pushed Dean off, who made a noise of protest.

Cas gave him a serious, borderline-glare look. Dean answered that look with an amused _you know you love me_ smirk and a hopeful shrug.

Cas threw down his now-closed book onto the nightstand and clicked his glasses shut in their case.

“ **I’m tired, I folded laundry, and I did it – all of it – for you**!” He snapped, lying on his side away from Dean, burying his face in the covers to hide from smells of leather and beer.

-

The next morning, Dean woke to an empty bed. He’d stayed at that bar later than he’d planned, and Cas got lonely easily, which was probably why he was a bit snappy.

He yawned and stretched, forcing himself to his feet. Once he opened his eyes properly and had a full view of the bedroom floor, he couldn’t actually _see_ the floor. It was covered in an assortment of plaid shirts and t-shirts, scattered from wall to wall.

“Hm.” Dean waved dismissively and went downstairs to find Cas in the kitchen. He’d just placed a plate in the sink, turning to lean against it and to stare at Dean, who stopped in his tracks.

Cas pointed to a full black bag by the bin with his eyes. Dean winced slightly. It was his turn to take out the trash the previous night. He had promised he’d do it before going out yesterday.

“ **Where were you when I needed the trash taken out last night?** ” Cas asked.

“I’m sorry, Cas, I forgot,” he admitted. “I’ll take it out right now.” And he did, not caring that he was just in his underwear.

He hadn’t been gone for more than a minute and a half, but for some reason, Cas was holding and studying one of the racks from the dishwasher once he’d gotten back inside.

“You broke it?”

“It’s not broken, Dean.”

“Dude, I’m not sure if they’re meant to come out. You made me come out, yeah, but I don’t think that talent is meant for kitchen appliances.”

Cas glanced at him, and started trying to slot the rack back in, sighing loudly.

Dean shook his head. And he’d just remembered why Cas was upset. “Cas, you’ve been pissy with me ever since I accidentally dropped your book in the sink last week – I said I was sorry!” He said, exasperated.

Cas’ shoulders tensed, but he otherwise ignored Dean in favour of fiddling with the rack. Dean pulled it from his hands and practically slammed it onto the table.

“ **Damn it, Cas, we can fix the dishwasher!** ”

“ **Dean, it’s not broken!** ”

Dean bit his tongue, taking a deep breath. He nearly forgot. He ran upstairs to pull something from his jacket pocket, standing in front of Cas once more.

What he handed Cas was a signed copy of his favourite book, some thing about bees. Cas stared.

“How did you- . . . “ He whispered, thumbing through the pristine pages.

“ **I’m going to the grocery store. Are you coming?** ”

 **A sigh.** “ **Of course.** ”

-

Two hours later – after dropping Cas home – found Dean on his own in Ikea, staring at a multitude of flatpacked furniture. Picking a new couch shouldn’t be this stressful, right?

A female employee took it upon herself to see if he was okay. She informed him that he had been standing there without moving for about ten minutes, and a group of her colleagues had grown concerned about him. Probably thought he was hot. She vaguely motioned towards her co-workers, and Dean could just about see three worried and uniformed women watching them amongst the bustling throngs of customers.

Dean just nodded. She didn’t seem convinced, but left him to his own devices anyway. He reluctantly called Cas, pouting, saying there was just too many people, he couldn’t decide on a couch, and he wanted Cas to come and help him.

Fifteen minutes of blank staring for Dean, and Cas had made his way to Ikea, panting lightly from the walk. He only took a moment to decide, thrust a flatpacked couch, along with the appropriate cushions, into Dean’s arms. He paid for them, and dragged Dean through the intense masses of people to the exit.

While putting their purchases in the car, Dean kept complaining about the intricacies of couches, and “why they have to make so many fucking kinds anyway” and kept doing so despite Cas telling him to shut up.

Cas slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door.

“ **You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Ikea. I can throw you back in.** ”

That shut Dean up.

Dean spent the duration of the short drive in his thoughts. He parked his baby in their driveway absentmindedly, expecting to hear a creak and slam to indicate Castiel’s departure, but that sound never graced his ears. Instead, he was presented with a pair of lips against his and a shifting body straddling his own.

“Uh, Cas?” He said, not breaking the kiss.

“Mmm?” Cas hummed, pulling away to scrutinise Dean’s face with a great degree of concern.

Not that Dean didn’t thoroughly enjoy having Cas all over him. He truly did. But he felt like his brain had fried due to the extended period of time spent staring at flatpacked furniture. It was detrimental; his mind seemed to be working in terms of instructions. For example, sex was a matter of “inserting shaft A into slot B”, and he needed his head back to regularity before inserting anything into anyone.

He gestured vaguely between them.

“ **Personal space?** ”

“ **We talked about this. You already have the garage, and I get the spare room for arts and crafts.** ”

“Not what I mean, babe,” Dean chuckled. “What do you say we head inside, grab a bite to eat, and then have some mind-blowing sex before putting the couch together and christening it?”

Cas’ answer – a smile – dazzling and absolutely beautiful, had Dean feeling like he was falling in love all over again.

They both excitedly made their way into the house, hauling in the unassembled couch. Cas rushed making sandwiches, which they both hurriedly and unceremoniously stuffed their mouths at an astonishing pace. As soon as they’d both polished off a glass of water, they were kissing, hands pulling at each other’s clothes.

They managed to end up naked in their bedroom, tangled in a mess of limbs and sheets.

Cas was straddling Dean, panting. Dean was planting desperate kisses along Cas’ jaw, slathering two of his fingers with lube. He slowly pressed one inside Cas, both of them moaning at the sensation.

He worked that one finger, whispering in Cas’ ear, “yeah, so good for me, baby.”

All the while he was rutting against Cas, the friction of their hard, slippery dicks nearly driving him insane.

The bed was creaking and groaning, more than they were, as if the bed believed they were already having sex and made the noise to accommodate.

He pushed a second lubricated finger inside Cas, opening him, scissoring. He plastered Cas with kisses that were simultaneously rough and sweet. They sucked bruises into each other’s skin, a mark of their ownership.

It’s when Cas moaned, “I’ll buy you pie, Dean, I’ll buy you pie,” that Dean just about lost it. He pumped his fingers inside Cas with a vengeance, muttering sweet, filthy nothings into his ear.

Dean shifted position, flipping them, so that he was on top of Cas. He moved again, propping himself up on his elbows in between Cas’ legs. He pulled out his fingers and dragged his tongue over Castiel’s hole.

Cas gripped the sheets, thrashed his head, panting incoherent words.

Dean lapped at Cas’ spit- and lube-slicked hole as delicately as his eagerness would allow. Licking and sucking, his other hand working lube onto his own dick.

He slid up Cas’ body, lips pressing against the angel’s abdomen, hipbones, chest, neck and mouth. Whispering “I love you” into skin that couldn’t say it back but could wear it like a black and blue promise.

He propped Cas’ legs up around his own hips, lining his slick, hard cock with Castiel’s hole. He slowly pushed in, Cas surrounding him, becoming his only reality, his life.

He gently rode into Cas, his hands trailing melodies and harmonies into the skin and muscles and into the bones they lay over. The sounds that pushed from their throats mingled into something like a song, and they both climaxed in the same moment, with Dean grunting and lip-biting, and Cas moaning and squeezing his eyes shut.

-

The morning after, Cas had handed soap to Dean, who had agreed to do the dishes. In the process, he’d broken a plate, which frustrated him. He was on the phone to Sam, venting about the “stupid fucking dishes, it’s their own fault for being so damn fucking slippery in the first place.”

He went off on a tangent of just swearing, and that’s when Cas felt it was time to step in.

He placed his hands on Dean’s hips, turning him so they were face-to-face. He used two fingers to lower Dean’s phone-holding hand from his ear, Cas’ pink mouth turned down on one side. His eyes met Dean’s as he said, “Don’t be angry with your brother. Call him back once you calm down.”

Dean nodded, promising Sam he’d call him later, and hung up.

Cas took hold of Dean’s hand. “ **I’m the one who gave you soap and made you wash the dishes.** ”

They kissed, the unspoken promise to buy more plates lingering on his lips.

-

Dean lowered the volume of ACDC’s _The Razor’s Edge_ once he realised he hadn’t seen Cas in about ten minutes.

He wandered from room to room, finding Cas stripping the sheets off of their bed.

Dean got as far as raising his eyebrows and inhaling to speak before Cas spoke up first.

“ **I’m doing the laundry for you, Dean. I’m doing the laundry because of you.** ”

Dean looked longingly at Cas, deciding doing the laundry today, as well as yesterday, was fine.

“Well,” he smirked. “These sheets are probably a bit used.” Nothing was better than sex with Cas.

Dean kissed him, squeezing Cas’ ass. He told Cas that he’d make the bed. And he did, as Cas put the sheets into the washing machine.

Dean smiled and kissed Cas on the cheek once they were both in the same room moments later.

Cas placed his lips close to Dean’s ear, arms around him, and whispered, “I promised I’d buy you pie.”

-

This led to Dean standing in his favourite bakery, staring at the pie display.

“Two dollars each, Cas,” he said, tears in his eyes. “Two dollars. Can you believe it?”

Cas furrowed his brow. The sign on the display – “Any pie $2 – Today and tomorrow only!” – confirmed what made Dean so emotional.

He placed his hand on Dean’s leather-covered shoulder.

“ **What’s the matter – you don’t think you deserve to save money? Good bargains do happen, Dean.** ”

They bought twenty dollars worth of pie, Dean actually shedding a tear as Cas handed over the money. Dean rushed them home because Cas said he’d blow him as he ate some warm pie. And he made good of that promise.

Dean then proceeded to blow Cas as he read his favourite book, even though he couldn’t concentrate on the book. He kept laughing about trying to read about bees while being sucked off, how it wasn’t what the author intended – not at all – but he came all the same, the words “bees”, “abdomen” and “stingers” floating before his eyes.

Pie, books about bees, and each other.

That’s what happiness is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_The post that inspired this story._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave some feedback!! c:


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